


Three Continents Watson?

by ms_soma



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_soma/pseuds/ms_soma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes an adrenaline-fuelled case for John and Sherlock to act on their feelings. All John can think is "yes" and "finally", until it starts to veer off plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Continents Watson?

It happened after an adrenaline-fuelled case which saw John hanging precariously from a balcony, his life flashing before his eyes for a second time. It all worked out, of course. Sherlock caught the crook, rescued John, and _accidently_ pressed the trigger on the criminal’s gun, resulting in the criminal losing his pinky toe.

John was high from not falling to his death, and Sherlock was wired from the split-second of doubt he had of being able to save him. Against the wall inside the door to 221B, they came together in a mess of limbs and lips and teeth and tongues. When Sherlock ran his lips down John’s neck, slipping the buttons of his shirt as he went, all John could think was _yes, finally_. Sherlock, who he’d cared about for a long time. Sherlock, who’d taken a starring role in his hottest fantasies.

“How do you want to do this?” Sherlock’s voice reverberated against his skin, igniting every sense receptor in John’s body.

“I don’t care,” he said, grabbing onto Sherlock’s glorious arse, revelling in being able to touch it. He was so past caring what happened as long as _something_ did.

“I care.” He sucked a spot onto John’s neck. He was giving him a hickey like a schoolboy. “How does John Watson take pleasure? Fast or slow? Rough or gentle?”

“You can’t deduce it?” John asked, not wanting to break the moment by answering.

“I like having the question answered.”

John made a deduction of his own. “Oh, you like dirty talk?” 

Sherlock had John’s shirt undone, and he flicked his thumbs across John’s nipples in response. It all felt so good, Sherlock’s hands on him, his erection grinding against him. It felt better than John could ever imagine. It was all he could do not to come in his pants like a—well, like a virgin being touched for the very first time.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me it would feel like this?” he murmured as Sherlock’s hands unzipped his flies and caressed him. He threw his head back against the wall and gasped for breath.

“John,” Sherlock said, nodding down to his own trousers and neglected erection.

“Oh, right.”

His fingers shook as they un-looped Sherlock’s buttons. John’s actions were tentative, hurried, and too eager all at once, but he couldn’t calm himself down, not now that it was actually happening. 

“Tell me what you want,” Sherlock said again, teeth tugging on John’s earlobe.

“You, I want you.”

“Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me what you like. Tell me what other lovers have done to drive you crazy. I want to drive you crazy.”

“T-touch me,” John started, chest heaving. “Stroke me. Jesus, I’m so hard.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a hiss of pleasure. “More, tell me more.”

John closed his eyes against the sight of Sherlock flush against him, hand working over his shaft. It felt as if they’d been dancing around this forever, and now it was here, now it was happening—

“I don’t, I don’t know—“

John felt Sherlock freeze and could practically hear the tumblers in his brain falling into place. He mentally kicked himself for his reaction. Dirty talk shouldn’t be that hard and Sherlock was keen. Sherlock _wanted_ this to happen as much as John did, he was sure.

And now, well, now Sherlock’s lips were no longer on his neck, and his hand was pulled away from his briefs. _God,_ thought John. _Bloody buggering fuck. Just when I thought maybe this time would be different._

He took deep breaths to try and re-regulate his heart rate, deliberately looking over Sherlock’s shoulder while his flatmate _observed_ or whatever the fuck he was doing. John did not want to meet his eyes. He did not want to see the pity there. He felt the flush of humiliation crawl up his chest and he adjusted his stance so there was at least some distance between them. Enough for an envelope at least, but it was enough.

“It’s okay,” he said, shoulders slumped. “I guess this wasn’t meant to be, after all.”

He could feel Sherlock shake his head. “Impossible. All those women?” John couldn’t tell if Sherlock wanted an answer of not. He probably wasn’t even aware he was speaking aloud. “I’ve heard your army mates with you. They call you _Three Continents Watson_.”

John nodded without humour. “Yes, John Watson, lived on three continents and still can’t get a shag. Ha-ha.”

Sherlock sighed. “I always miss something.”

“Look, it’s okay,” John started, even though it didn’t feel okay. But John was a grown up and it wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. “I’m the kind of bloke people want as a friend. I’m not one-night stand material, and I’m too good a person and it would ruin the friendship etcetera, etcetera. So if you don’t mind getting out of my way, I’m going to go have a shower. And with any luck, drown myself.”

Sherlock did not move.

“You’re a virgin.”

“Brilliant deduction.” John tried to keep the malice from his voice.

“It is. Brilliant, that is.” Sherlock dropped to his knees and buried his face in John’s crotch. “Absolutely brilliant.”

John’s eyebrows furrowed. What was he doing? “What?”

“I have a lack of experience in these things. I’ve researched and read books, but never believed I could be an adequate lover for someone of your reputation.”

Sherlock’s lips started planting kisses over John’s pants.

“Would you really think experience would matter to me, even if that reputation was deserved?”

“Irrelevant. Or, at least it’s irrelevant now.” Sherlock licked a stripe over John’s clothed dick. “We have better things to do than discuss things that are not facts. The fact is, I have an insatiable desire to taste every part of you.”

John’s knees went wobbly as he considered his words. “You mean, you still want to—“

“Of course. Why would a trivial thing such as virginity stop me from taking what I want?”

“Um, because it’s happened before? Plenty of times?” John huffed. “ _I can’t be your first time; You deserve to share it with someone you really care about; We can’t do it like this_.”

Sherlock rocked back on his knees and stood up, walking away from John and heading toward the kitchen. What was he doing, now? Christ, it was easier to decode that damned Chinese puzzle.

“Where are you going?”

“Bedroom. Those people were right.”

John groaned in frustration and cursed his stupid virgin mouth for laying out every reason why he and Sherlock should not be doing this. Every single time he got even remotely close to someone, this happened. And this was Sherlock, the person he was closest to of all.

“Are you coming?” Sherlock fixed him with an impatient gaze. “If we’re going to have sex it’s going to be in a bed.”

John’s eyes widened and his heart started hammering in his chest. They were still going to do this? Despite John’s status? Sherlock wasn’t about to tell him that they were too good friends to possibly spoil it with potentially mediocre sex?

Minutes later, when John’s naked back hit Sherlock’s mattress, he knew there was no turning back. He’d never felt so alive, so wanted. Sherlock was completely bare above him, hair falling into his face and as gorgeous as John had suspected. He was hard and flushed and looking at John like he wanted to devour him whole.

“You do realise that I will be collecting data from this,” Sherlock said, tongue sliding over his nipple and erection digging into his stomach.

John gasped. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Sherlock could catalogue the whole damned thing as far as John was concerned. They were doing this. They were going to have sex.

“And we may need to experiment in the future. You know, blood pressure, semen output, body temperature--” Sherlock raised his hips and grabbed at John’s cock, slowly lowering himself down on it.

John felt the world go white.

“You want to do this again?”

“Of course,” he said, brow creasing and then slackening. His eyes opened to meet John’s. God, but Sherlock felt tight and wet and warm and amazing. He didn’t know what he should be doing, so he just went with it, rolling his hips and thrusting up when it was all getting too much.

John didn’t last long, it was impossible when he was encased in so much pleasure. It was hard to know how to feel, and John ended up defining it as a strange mix of relief that he had finally done it, and mortification that Sherlock was still hard above him. He’d wanted to make it good for him, too.

Too blissed out to do anything to help, all John could do was watch as Sherlock jacked himself. He tried to take mental notes of what Sherlock liked, but his brain was filled with ash. He was surprised smoke wasn’t coming out of his ears.

“I’ve never bedded a virgin before,” Sherlock said later, when they were both sated and clean.

You could not wipe the smile from his face. “I’ve never bedded anyone.”

“I have the sudden urge to send a thank you note to anyone who has ever turned you down.”

John smiled. “Well, there was Emma, Joan and Paula in high school. Then James, Hannah, Meg, Soraya, Niamh, Tom, Jane, Shelley, Rhonda, Sarah, Marie, Susan, Samuel, Jake, Matt—“

Sherlock laughed and rolled on top of John again.

“I may have been the first, but I also expect to be the last.”

“Oh. I was going to go through my little black book and tell all of those people that I was no longer a virgin. You know, see if things have changed.”

John saw Sherlock’s eyes twitch ever so slightly before he climbed off of him, mood diminished in the blink of an eye. “Of course.”

John rolled his eyes and then straddled Sherlock’s waist.

“Of course not, you wanker. Why would I need anyone else when I have a mad genius in my bed?”

“Technically, you’re in my bed,” Sherlock said, then groaned as John ground down on him.

“Do you want to go another round or not?”

Sherlock grinned. “Let me get the thermometer.”

While John waited for Sherlock to return, he started planning a little holiday for the two of them. Hawaii, Australia, maybe Japan?  
No matter what, it would be a holiday where John could return saying he'd shagged him senseless across three continents!


End file.
